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My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
“The mansion in Charleston was just a place,” he continues, his voice raw and fractured. “I didn’t belong there.”
“Lucien.”
He looks at me then, his eyes red and swollen, his face wet with tears. He wipes his tears with the back of his hand. He makes a sound that’s half sob, half laugh, and then he’s pulling me into his arms, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. His face is buried in my neck, his tears soaking into my shirt.
I hold him. I run my hands through his hair. I press kisses to his temple, his cheeks, anywhere I can reach.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “I’ve got you, angel. Come home to me.”
“Thank you,” he whispers.
When we break apart, he looks down at the key still clutched in his fist.
“I’m going to put this on my keychain,” he says. “Right next to my car key.”
“You won’t have a car anymore,” I point out.
“Then it’ll be the only key on there. The only one that matters.”
We’re going to be okay. We’re going to figure this out together. And no matter what happens, he’ll always have a place to come home to.
He’ll always have me.
FEBRUARY
40
LUCIEN
Cameron’s head is heavy in my lap, his body stretched out along the length of the couch. We’re watching a show about hockey that’s not really about hockey. My hand traces down his spine, feeling the warmth of his skin through his thin T-shirt.
The apartment is quiet except for the sounds on the TV. It’s ours, this space, this life we’re building. The trust money came through last week. My mother approved the request without a word to my father, just a terse email from the lawyer Alistair connected me with. Request approved. Funds available for tuition and educational expenses only.
I don’t have to talk to them. I don’t have to take their money. I don’t have to pretend.
I’m free.
My hand slides lower, cupping Cameron’s ass through his sweatpants. He makes a sexy sound, shifting slightly in my lap. I’m getting hard just thinking about it, about what I want to try, what I’ve been thinking about for days now.
Cameron turns his head, looking up at me. His eyes are bright, curious. Then his gaze drops to my lap and a slow grin spreads across his face.
“I can feel you getting hard,” he says.
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t move my hand. “I wonder if you would try something with me.”
His eyes gleam, almost sparkling. “Yes.”
“You don’t know what it is yet.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
My heart stumbles a beat, then doubles its pace. I nod, suddenly nervous and excited all at once. “Okay. Then let’s go to the bedroom.”
Cameron hops off the couch and pulls me up. His hand is warm in mine as we walk down the hall, and I can feel the anticipation building.
The moment we hit the bedroom, our clothes are gone. Cameron’s hands find me immediately, guiding me down onto the mattress. We settle on our sides, facing each other, and he takes his time with my mouth, kissing me slowly, deeply, utterly thorough. When his tongue slides against mine, the specific intimate taste of him floods my mouth. I’ve always been obsessed with the flavor of his skin and his lips, a heavy, intoxicating taste that fills my senses until I can’t think of anything else.
